


A Captain's Bargain

by vividdecadence



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Romance, Wano Arc (One Piece)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22690237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vividdecadence/pseuds/vividdecadence
Summary: Kid wants nothing more than to flee from Wano. Turn his back on that god-forsaken place and pretend it doesn't exist. When an opportunity to help his childhood friend presents itself, however, the Captain is forced to reconsider. Even when the price for the help is another alliance he'd sworn to never enter again. And with no one but Trafalgar Law, of all people.....
Relationships: Eustass Kid/Trafalgar D. Water Law, Killer/Penguin (One Piece)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 146





	1. Chapter 1

It never ends. 

Between each little fit sit a few minutes of silence before it starts again; a quiet, little sound that follows him around and that he cannot ignore. Like a tinnitus, only more infuriating. Every time the low-pitched fufufufu-sounds grow too loud, he hears a sharp inhale and the sound continues muffled. No need to look over his shoulder to know that he’s lying somewhere in the dark, curled into a ball and failing to fall asleep, with his hands clasped over his mouth, hoping to quiet the sound. Half in a daze and mainly subconsciously. He’s drifting in and out of sleep, dozing more than anything, and every now and then something on his mind triggers that quiet giggling. Whenever the cracking of the firewood is louder than the laughter, Kid is glad. One can only pretend for so many hours in a day to be annoyed rather than devastated. 

The idea had been to bring as many miles between themselves and the prison mines. 

Between fits of laughter, Killer had soon dragged Kid off the main roads and on through every quiet back alley and side street he knew. No matter the upheaval and uneasiness already clinging to Wano like glue, a one-armed beast of a man, and a laughing maniac with his face wrapped in bandages still drew attention somehow. Constant reminders not to start anything usually would have been reason enough for Kid to do exactly that, but the Captain is quiet. And for most of the way his gaze had been pinned to Killer’s back, the cogs and wheels of his brain working overtime in his head. Thinking is hard. This time it is at least. Blame it on weeks of sleep deprivation, hunger, and pain. Blame it on the company of that idiot monkey boy who managed to dumb down whatever company he found himself in. Kid is glad he’s left him behind. 

Now, in the darkness of the night and with enough distance between them and the prison, the sudden quiet hits him like a sledgehammer from the left. Around them is nothing but barren land, covered in shades of grey and shadows moving in a mild breeze coming from the coast. Their route would continue south until they’d hit the coast of Udon, before turning east to enter Hakumai. A pirate seeks the sea and a ship. What better place to find both than a port? In his head, the plan makes perfect sense, and still Kid finds it unsettling. Probably because he’s not sure who cooked it up; Killer? Or Kamazo?

The Captain risks a brief glimpse over his shoulder at the curled-up shadow suffering in the dark. The unruly mob of blond hair and the bandages almost gleam golden in the dim light of the fire. It’s strange, he finds. To see him without the mask. To hear that each shallow exhale is no longer chaperoned by a low whistling sound coming through the holes. He remembers the weeks following the first time Killer had put the mask on. How it had annoyed the ever loving shit out of him, that whistling. Enough to occasionally rip the damned thing off Killer’s face in fits of frustration, followed by screaming on both sides. He misses it now. Not only because the whistling had become a steady companion in the past few years, but also because the laughter is worse. So much worse. 

If it’s horrible for him, he doesn’t want to imagine how bad it must be for Killer. 

Lips drawn to a thin line does the Captain turn his back on his first mate again, his crimson eyes now staring down the flames as if he anticipated them to shrivel up and die under a simple look. The quiet of the night allows for questions to creep into his mind. About Killer, and about how much of him might still be left in that head of his. About whether or not letting him drown would have been mercy. Any goddamn animal would be put out of its misery if it suffered like Killer does. Any single one. Only question remaining is: who would then put Kid out his own misery?

Part of him, for a few seconds at least, wishes he hadn’t figured out who Kamazo really is. That he’d been able to just run, no looking back. To leave this goddamned place behind and maybe, in a few years, after somewhat having dealt with the loss of his friend, to figure out how Killer’s life inevitably had ended. Why make it easy, though? Why make things horribly comfortable for a change? 

The snap of a branch has him whirl around, his eyes piercing the darkness around them. Somewhere to his left, coming from the direction of Ebisu Town. Kid squints at the mix of blacks and greys. Coaxing his brain into looking through the blotched darkness is a lot harder than he had thought. Blame it on his own tiredness. And perhaps on his lungs that still burn with every exhale of air. 

Eventually he can discern a shadow from the others. Slender and tall, moving slowly and quietly through the night, towards their camp. It staggers every now and then, straightens up again, and moves on. Steady, steady. Headed straight for the fire, no mistake. Kid’s hand automatically goes to the dagger that is no longer there. Neither is the pistol. Nor any other kind of metal. Naturally there is no metal in the arse end of nowhere outskirts of Udon. Foolish of him to think otherwise. Gritting his teeth, he prepares to snuff whatever creature’s existence in a wave of haki, however strong he can still manage, when a low, eerily familiar voice cuts through the silence. 

“Relax, Captain.” 

He knows that voice. Not so much the tone itself, but the underlying sound of mockery that sits in every syllable. Only this time it sounds a little pressed. As if the clown speaking struggled to keep himself composed somehow. And by the time the figure slinks away from the shadows and steps into the light of the fire, Kid has figured out who it is.  
“Fancy meeting you here.”  
“Yeah,” Trafalgar Law offers a hint of a smirk, leaning heavily on his katana. “Come here often?”  
“Hell, no.” 

A few seconds pass in absolute silence; two captains seizing each other up with no small amount of mistrust openly displayed between them. There is no denying that both are in rough shape. A blackened and crusted blotch has formed somewhere on Law’s sleeve, and the doctor looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Not that deep circles under his eyes are a new look necessarily, but grey-ish as he is, it seems sickly this time. Kid’s coat is still damp, the pale skin even whiter than usual, and where heaps of metal and iron had set for the past two years, nothing but a bandaged stump is left. Law eyes it curiously for a moment, before his gaze wanders to Killer occasionally still snickering in his sleep. 

“Looking good, Eustass-ya.”  
Kid snorts. Liar.  
“Better than you,” he says. “What do you want?”  
The smirk on Law’s lips grows a little wider but loses its edge in the process. Instead, very obviously and very suddenly, Law looks tired. Almost as if he were the one who had almost drowned after spending weeks hauling rocks in a prison camp.  
“Just a spot by the fire. Frankly, you don’t look like you’ve got anything else to offer anyways.”

Part of Kid wants to be offended. The exhausted, tired part of him however relents quite easily to the statement; it’s true, why pretend otherwise. There is nothing else left to offer, least of all any fucks he could possibly give. About this place, about Kaido. About Law sitting down or not. And he does, leaning heavily on his katana in the process. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, resting for however long he can afford it with Kid’s curious look on his person. One night, maybe, until all hell would break loose again come morning. 

“I’m glad I found you,” Law says eventually, breaking the silence before an impatient Kid can.  
“Found me? What, like you’ve been looking for me—”  
“I have.”  
Kid stares at the doctor, openly startled whether he likes it or not. Not the answer he’s expected. And certainly not an answer that makes him feel comfortable in any way or form.  
“Why?”  
Law chuckles and Killer, still sleeping behind them, chaperones the sound with his own little fufufu.  
“I said relax. I’m not here to hurt you.”  
“Try.”  
“I said I won’t. Quit being such a defensive pain in the ass.”  
“Feel free to go looking for another camp if you like.”  
“I don’t.”  
Kid’s muscles twitch in a subconscious desire to childishly cross his arms before his chest, only to then remember that he can’t anymore. Phantom limbs. He hadn’t thought that kind of stuff was real until it happened to him.  
“What do you want?”  
Law rests his elbows on his knees then, palms towards the flame, fingers spread in a feeble attempt to warm himself up after walking through the cold of the night for hours. The glow of the fire draws a pretty contrast between his skin and the black tattoos. He looks at Kid, one corner of his lips drawn up to a smirk, and through the fatigue shimmers just a touch of mischief that has the Captain shift uneasily on his spot. 

“I need you to help me defeat Kaido.”


	2. Chapter 2

Time seems to tick by in silence for a while. Kid merely stares at the other man in what Law believes could either be speechlessness or amazement, and he isn’t sure which of the two would be more unsettling. The doctor has no issue matching that quiet glare; no flinching, no blinking, no fidgeting at all. He sits unmoving, his hands still outstretched, and the look on his tired face is one of utter calm. What’s the worst that could happen?

Kid could say yes. 

He might as well say no. He might yell, rage, threaten, cuss him off Wano entirely, but Law knows that the one thing he does not have to fear right now is death. The Captain looks too close to a corpse himself. Tired and groggy, about ready to leave this place and the New World both behind entirely. A quiet snoring that eerily sounds like someone snickering echoes from behind Kid’s broad back and Law, curiously, dares to take his eyes off the Captain to briefly glimpse at the creature bundled up in the dark. Too dark to tell, truth be told. He seems content to tell himself for now that it must be one of Kid’s crew members, but which one, he doesn’t know. Nor does he care all too much. Eustass Kid might be a ridiculous monster of a man, but his crew, Law knows, is amazingly loyal to their captain. 

The silence stretches on further and Law eventually tilts the raven head, offering a brief shrug of his shoulders.  
“So?”  
“Piss off.”  
Ah. No, it is, then.   
Law smiles and Kid battles the urge to strike out with that last remaining good arm of his and knock the good doctor to kingdom come. Once, twice, maybe three times even. He remembers it all. The pain, no doubt, starting the very moment his carefully constructed arm had been violently ripped from his torso and thrown aside like the limb of a ragdoll before they had forced him into sea stone cuffs and a collar. That pain that hasn’t subsided until this day, leaving him restless at night. More importantly however, there’s the shame that comes with a beating like that. The grand Eustass “Captain” Kid, defeated by a single man. Again. Now sitting here in the middle of nowhere, missing an arm, beat and broken, and without a ship or a crew. All because of one man. One. 

“You still want to be Pirate King, don’t you?”  
Law’s voice eventually cuts through the silence with such ease that Kid feels offended for a moment. He’s made a point. He’s made it clear. It’s not supposed to go ignored.   
“So what?”  
“Don’t you?”  
“I _will_ be Pirate King.”   
“Not like this.”  
Kid scrunches up that multi-broken nose of his, a strange mix of offense and a sneer settling on his face.   
“What do you know—”  
“I know that if Strawhat-ya is the one who defeats Kaido, he will be the one to become Pirate King, too. And he wants to be. Perhaps more than you do.”   
Kid huffs.   
“If the boy defeats Kaido, and he won’t, there are still two more Emperors to defeat after that. One of them is unbeatable.”   
“Oh?” Law perks up, suddenly amused, and he cannot help but curiously skid a little closer to Kid who either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t mind. “Is that an admission of weakness coming from you?”  
“One more word and I’ll bury you alive, Trafalgar.”   
“With only one arm?”  
In a matter of seconds that one arm shoots forward, and long fingers wrap themselves around Law’s throat. Open surprise is plastered all across the doctor’s face; some creeping, chilling, disgusting kind of terror settling in his bones for a moment. He had studied this man. Years and years gone by in which Law had followed Kid’s every move until he had believed to know him, weirdly enough, from a distance at least. He had thought that Kid was too beat, too tired to bother. Yet those painted nails dig into the sensitive skin of his neck, and it isn’t until Law sees the arrogant indifference on Kid’s face that he knows he doesn’t have to fear that hand squeezing his throat shut until he chokes. It’s just a threat. For now, at least. 

“Oi, oi. Easy.”   
The grip of the hand tightens minimally, and Law involuntarily closes his own hand around Kid’s wrist.   
“Don’t test me,” the Captain murmurs, and Law blinks at the utter lack of aggression.   
Perhaps he really is beat. Eustass Kid, crumbled to a mere ghost of the presence he once was. Whoever it is sitting in front of him, Law struggles to believe it’s the same man who’s made a name for himself by ruthlessly slaughtering anyone standing in his way, innocent or not. Something’s happened. Something much worse than Kaido.

“You know I’m right, though,” Law says eventually, unable to stand another period of silence between them. “Kaido needs to be your opponent if you want to be Pirate King.”   
“So does Big Mom. So does Teach. So does Red-Hair. So what?”  
“You’ve given up?”  
For a mere few seconds the hand around his throat squeezes hard enough for Law to violently suppress a gasp, before the touch disappears. Slowly, eerily the realization hits home that if he had ever known Kid at all, he has only known him at his best. He’s known a man oozing confidence and arrogance because so far nothing had stood in his way that he hadn’t been able to beat. He doesn’t know Kid once he’s been defeated. And a little voice in the back of his mind tells him that this Kid is much more dangerous than the one he thought he knew.   
“You’ve given up,” Law concludes.   
“Fuck off, Trafalgar.”  
“Why?”   
The snored chuckles of _fufufufu_ grow a little louder for a moment, and the Captain involuntarily flinches at the sound; teeth grit, jaw clenched.   
“Don’t matter why.”  
“It matters.”  
“It’s none of your goddamn business!”  
“Is it because of him?”  
A nod of the dark head indicates Law pointing at Killer, and Kid feels tempted to choke the life out of the doctor for good this time.   
“I said it’s none of your business.”  
“Kaido did that, didn’t he? With his messed-up devil fruits.”   
“Are you deaf?”  
“It’s fine, I know. I’ve seen Ebisu Town.”  
Law leaves it at that. No need to admit how much he knows indeed. About SAD. About Doflamingo and Caesar Clown. About the ruins of the SMILE factory in Dressrosa. Everything he’s tried to forget so desperately, and yet it keeps coming back time and time again. Even when he’s defeated and chained, Doflamingo still comes for him. 

Shifting, Law once again stretches out his hands against the flames. Call it luck that both the darkness and the trademark, spotted hat on his head obscure most of what’s happening in his mind, and perhaps openly playing on his face. A side-eyed glance reveals, much to Law’s relief, that Kid isn’t paying attention anyways. The Captain keeps on looking over his shoulder, back to the sleeping man giggling in the back.   
“It’s poison, you know?”  
“Hm?” Kid turns his head, now watching Law with a strange mixture of annoyance and almost child-like curiosity.   
“SAD. The concoction Caesar used to make SMILE. It’s nothing but poison, and it doesn’t work.”   
“So, the laughing—”   
“It’s a side effect. An unpleasant one, granted, but not lethal. Unless the person suffering from it decides to kill themselves. Which, I suppose, happens.”   
A sudden chill races down Kid’s spine; an urge to grab Killer by the collar and violently shake him until he swears he won’t end his own life over this. The one remaining fist clenches involuntarily.   
“I tried to get SAD,” Law continues, apparently unfazed by the Captain’s almost violent reaction. “I tried to get to it to figure out what it is. Something happened, however. I never got my hands on it.”   
“What’s the point?”  
“Of knowing?”  
“Yeah.”   
“To figure out how to reverse it.”   
Kid stares at him then. Stares and stares, as if Law were some ethereal being that had just come down from the heavens.   
“You can do that?”  
“I could try,” the doctor shrugs. “I’d need a SMILE fruit for that, at least. A few, actually, preferably some that work, too, to figure out the difference.”  
“All of the SMILE fruits are safely stored on Onigashima.”  
“How do you know?”  
“Because Kaido told me. Thick-headed punk thought he’d gloat after—”  
After he’d taken everything from the Captain and thrown him into a damp, dark cell. Kid falls silent again, and Law sees that one, sole chance he might still have.   
“If I could get to those fruits, I might be able to find a cure for it. I could help your friend.”   
He feels the Captain’s murderous gaze on his body, and fear mixes with curious confidence then. Law smiles again.   
“If you help me get to Onigashima, we have a chance to get past Kaido, and to find the fruits. _If_ you help me. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”   
Kid once again scrunches up his nose, his lips again drawn to a thin line. _Fufufufu_ sounds again.  
“Fine. I’ll help you.”  
Law holds out a tattooed hand and after a moment’s hesitation, Kid grabs it hard enough for the doctor’s knuckles to crack.


	3. Chapter 3

Sunshine tickles his nose; softly and quietly enough to leave Law blinking in a sleepy haze, wondering where he is. He stifles a yawn with the tattooed back of his hand. The greys and blacks of the previous night are coming to life, shadows growing lighter while on the horizon to the east the sun slowly starts to creep up from the sea. It is only now that he properly sees his surroundings. A vast steppe covered in dry, brown grass despite the violent thunderstorms and rain showers that hit Wano so very regularly. Occasional underbrush and dried up trees break the bleak picture up, but overall, it’s never-ending nothingness.   
Kid seems to have found the one tree in a couple miles radius that still carries some meagre leaves at least, offering shade and coolness in the hot day that is to come. Still curled up by the roots lies the heap that is Killer, a thick badge of bandages drawn up to cover his eyes against the sunlight, and, judging from the even rise and fall of his ribcage, he finally seems to sleep properly. No more _fufufufu_. Not for now at least.   
Law stretches his legs, and no second later feels a massive weight shift against his side and a tuft of red hair brushes his cheek, causing Law to almost swallow a good mouthful of it. Tongue out and spitting does he jerk his chin away from the sudden intrusion, but initial annoyance is quickly replaced by unabashed curiosity. 

Kid is asleep. 

The hand of his sound, right arm clutches the thick furs of his coat as if he had tried to shield himself from the night, one leg is outstretched against the low glow of the coals left from the fire, the other is tugged under his thigh, and the Captain’s face, much to Law’s astonishment, looks utterly peaceful. Gone is the crease between his brows, those hard lines constantly drawing his lips into a grim scowl. For the first time since meeting him, Law remembers that Kid is only twenty-three. 

He can’t remember falling asleep. More importantly, he can’t remember Kid falling asleep and, at some point during the night, slumping against him. Out here, in the open and with plenty of people looking for them, this night might as well have been their last. Call it sheer dumb luck, Law supposes. After the ruckus in the prison mines, Kid is a wanted man. And Law has, only very recently, left one of Kaido’s newfound hardliners cut to pieces and bound. Neither of them, he imagines, are particularly popular right now. 

Between a mumbled, quiet “Eustass-ya”, and the slightest nudge of his shoulder against the Captain’s large frame, Law recognizes a comfortable heat oozing into his side. A feeling that, he remembers vaguely, has started sometime during the night. That had turned an uneasy sleep into a deeper slumber that now, come morning, actually feels refreshing.   
A few more muttered calls of Kid’s name follow, the pause between them gradually becoming shorter with each extra inch that Law’s impatience grows, and all the Captain offers is a low, content snore. Law squints.  
“KID!”  
Screaming in his ear and the very sudden removal of the comfortable shoulder he was leaning on, jerk the redhead awake. There’s an utterly confused and almost inhuman sound coming from his throat before Kid topples sideways and almost crashes, face-first, into the dirt. 

“TRAFALGAR!”  
“I tried the nice way.”   
Law dusts off his yukata, his voice flat and matter of fact, before he leaves the startled Captain behind and gets up. The sun is inching higher and higher above the horizon, soon drenching the grassland around them in a warm, orange glow. Kid, too, heaves his weight up, stretches until his spine gives an audible pop, and yawns; mouth wide open with no shame, nor manners.   
The blond ball by the roots of the tree moves a little, shifting under the rising heat that’s already creeping across the grass. It’s Kid’s large hand, however, that eventually rattles Killer awake, along with the quiet call of his name.   
“Kamazo,” Killer mumbles from behind a layer of bandages, chasing a painful pang right through Kid’s chest.   
“No, you’re not. Get up. We gotta go.”   
“ _Fufufufu_.” 

Law watches from the corner of his eyes. When figuring out the past weeks of Kid’s life had been nothing but a guessing game last night, the pieces of the puzzle are now beginning to fall into place. And they are offering quite the surprising, sound explanation for the Captain’s indifference to whatever is left of the world.  
“It’s really him, huh? Killer?”  
The question may be innocent enough in nature, but it suffices for Kid to merely shoot Law a glare that would make braver, greater men crumble and crack in fear.   
“I told you I’ll help him.” Not Law however, apparently.   
Kid pulls his coat over the bandaged stump that is his left arm.   
“If you don’t, I’ll kill you.” And he marches on, keeping the sunrise to his left. A strange sensation of relief washes over Law then; horrible timing and uncalled for entirely, but the notion that Kid, perhaps, has not lost his spirit entirely yet feels weirdly soothing. 

By late afternoon they reach the coast. 

A man is perhaps destined to be at sea when the sight of the glistening, endless waves offers that same feeling one might get after almost drowning. That need to fill the lungs with air; to survive, no matter what. The breeze coming from the water carries another soft fufufufu with it, catches in Kid’s flaming hair, and ruffles the hem of Law’s yukata, and despite their differences, all three know they’re finally home. Far away from solid land and dry, deserted patches of soil, with nothing but the wide ocean ahead. There’s that tug of a desire to just abandon their alliance and head out to sea right away, as far, far away as possible. If less were on the line, Kid might as well follow that desire. Leave Law standing and disappear into the sunset, never to be seen again in Wano.   
“ _Fufufufu_.”  
He can’t.   
“What are you laughing at?” A glance is cast over his shoulder at Killer, who merely shows him the finger with a broad grin on his lips, and this time it is Law who feels some unease creep up his spin. He’s strange without the mask. Years of curiosity about what his face might look like gone poof in a heartbeat; and in a context that Law had not imagined. 

Kid heaves a sigh and turns left, when Law’s flat voice causes him to freeze in his steps.   
“Where do you think you’re going?”  
“Hakumai.”   
“Why?”  
“The port?”  
Law blinks like an ox. Frankly, he’s not sure why he’s surprised about the fact that Kid seems to have a plan. He wouldn’t have come this far without one, surely, and yet the man elicits nothing but plain, aggressive, in-your-face chaos. It feels like a new lesson to learn: just because Eustass Kid leaves havoc in his wake does not mean it rules his head.   
“You’ve lost your ship, haven’t you?”  
“I’ll get a new one.” The nonchalance of Kid’s voice is astounding.   
“Mine lies a little to the west—” As is that of Law’s voice. His fingers almost innocently toy with his belt, and he offers a casual shrug of his shoulders. Kid meets Killer’s gaze in subtle disbelief. His first mate still grins, bar any other kind of emotion, but mixed with the pain of his very existence perhaps indeed is one little touch of amusement.   
“I guess that’s an invitation, Kid.”   
The Captain now glances at Law again.   
“You should listen to your First Mate.”   
Kid rolls the golden eyes, lips pursed, and mutters a low but unmistakably annoyed “You can both go die in a fire” before setting his massive frame in motion again. 

To the west. 

Hidden inside a cove, halfway stranded and entirely unmoving lies a submarine. The hull is dented, some holes in the metal roughly fixed by oversized patches of more, mismatched metal. Where the steep climb up the waterfalls proves difficult enough for a regular ship, it is almost impossible for a submarine.   
Penguin doesn’t doubt that it’s been luck, primarily, that had gotten them up here halfway safely at least. Some bumps and bruises, not only on the ship but also those inside, but those can be discarded. He had arrived just after sunrise, alone, without Shachi. Quick and quietly had he slinked down to the bay from the cliffs of the coast above, across the beach with the lightest of footsteps so to leave no obvious traces behind, and he had hurried into the familiar safety of Polar Tang. 

With the Strawhat alliance on the edge, and their captain’s clear orders not to let Mugiwara in on the recent mess they had stumbled into, the plan is to gather whatever resources they still have and hunker down someplace safe. Far, far away from the capital and the prying eyes of Orochi and his subordinates. Far away from the poisoned, dangerous foods the islands provide; and thus, he is here. Making his way down to the kitchen to gather whatever provisions they may still have. One first curled into the fabric of his yukata does he cuss along the way, walking the shallow corridors blindly, but with a lot less surety than he’d usually display. Damn that outfit. And damn all of everything else. Disgruntled and concerned, Penguin almost makes it halfway to the kitchen when he unmistakably hears the hatch of the ship creak and crash -


	4. Chapter 4

One step into the dim darkness of the submarine and a gush of air announces the bo staff about to rain down on his head unexpectedly. Killer’s bandaged hand shoots up, fingers curling around the wood, and with an inhuman strength he sends his attacker brutally slamming into the nearest wall. From the dark, the staff shoots forward again, hitting him straight in the knees, and the Kid Pirate almost keels over, a wobbly step bringing him forward when a fist comes flying at his face. He manages to catch it just before it can collide with his nose, his grip around the smaller hand crushing like a vice, and yet no sound comes from the other man. He elicits a low, untypical chuckle, and with one swift move sends the other crashing into the floor – his knee soon weighing down on his attacker’s chest, while a hand sits tight around his throat. 

Kid watches, unmoving. Law hums quietly.   
“I didn’t expect you to be here. Sorry ‘bout that.”  
“Captain!” Penguin sounds pressed and elated at the same time.   
His fingers are curled around Killer’s wrist, the yukata halfway come loose revealing a heavily tattooed chest rising and falling harshly while he tries to catch his breath, and the trademark bonnet has slipped off his head in the fight, revealing a thick mob of sandy hair and big, golden eyes in the dim light of the submarine.   
Killer stares.   
“Get off of me!”  
He still stares.   
“Oi! Are you deaf?! Move!”  
Kid feels Law’s cool gaze on his skin and, in passing, buries his hand in the scruff of Killer’s collar to casually, yet remarkably gently, drag him off the wheezing man on the floor. Scrambling to his feet, Penguin perforates Killer with looks that indeed could kill, and still the man cannot say a word. Not even the smallest _fufufufu_ rings in the belly of the Polar Tang that very moment.   
“Kid Pirates?” Penguin asks, turning his attention to Law, who stands leaning against the cold metal, arms crossed and entirely unfazed by what had just happened.   
“Why are you here?” Law asks.  
Penguin fidgets, pulling the thick fabric of the yukata back over his shoulder with the diligence of a blushing, young geisha.   
“To get provisions.”  
“Huh?”  
“The plan—, “ Penguin casts an uneasy look at Kid, but his captain’s calm allows him to keep talking. “It’s falling apart. The ships have been destroyed; they’re all stranded.”   
Law grits his teeth, a low tch hissed between clenched jaws.   
“We agreed to sit it out and hide until Mugiwara comes back.”   
Kid acknowledges the name with a groan and turns his massive back on the two Heart Pirates. A small, almost timid _fufufu_ follows, and Killer sees Penguin’s ice-cold glare before his eyes, once again, disappear under the low bonnet. 

The metallic cool of the submarine is a welcomed relief from the scorching heat settling on the beach outside. Kid’s crimson eyes curiously take in the scenery, picking up little details along the way to the captain’s quarters.   
Much to Penguin’s dismay, Law had ordered him to take Killer to the infirmary to get a blood sample. Discomfort has crept on the bandaged face of Kid’s First Mate, followed by an almost helpless look over his shoulder, back at the Captain, but Kid had averted his gaze, lips drawn to a thin line. Killer is weak. Whatever Kaido has done to him has made him weak. Insecure. Insane. And deep in Kid’s gut an unspeakable fear builds up – a walnut-sized clump growing and growing to the point, it feels like an entire landslide of rock and rubble already. _What if_. What if he’s so lost, I have to leave him behind?

“You have fought Kaido directly, haven’t you?”  
Law’s low, steady voice drags him back to reality, and for a moment the Captain blinks dumbfounded.   
“Yeah.”  
“Did you land any hits on him? Hurt him at all?” Law can see the tension suddenly settling on Kid’s face; discomfort that quickly could turn into embarrassed rage if he prodded a little too hard. And he can tell that the Captain is carefully choosing his words so to not sound too unrealistic, but not powerless either.  
“A few bruises, maybe.”   
Kid has an ego. That much is clear. An ego more massive than most Law had ever encountered, perhaps only surpassed by Doflamingo’s, but as huge as Kid’s ego is, it is just as frail. It dents easily. What other reason would drive a man into killing everyone who’s ever dared to laugh at him?   
This entire country, Law imagines, must be Kid’s biggest nightmare. 

“How would you rate our chances of taking Kaido out if we tackled him together?”  
“Non-existent.”  
The reply comes quickly and nonchalantly enough for Law to perk up. A few seconds pass in silence while he merely looks the Captain up and down, before shoving a key into the locked door to his personal space. It swings open with an audible creak that has Kid scrunch up his nose. Wrinkled like that, Law thinks, it looks even more hideous than it usually does, but strangely cute at the same time.   
Not even a step in and Law suddenly feels a strong, large hand gripping his upper arm, hard, and holding him back. He’s a tall man, but even he has to crane his neck to see Kid’s face in the dim lights of the ship.   
“We’re not taking Kaido out.”   
It’s not a question, but rather a strange mixture between a reminder and an order. Law feels those red eyes burn right through his core, and for a moment he fears that lying to the Kid Pirate won’t be as easy as he thought it would be.   
“Of course not. We’re stealing the SMILE fruits. That’s all.”  
“Swear it.”  
“What?”  
“On your crew’s lives. Swear it, Trafalgar.”  
Law doesn’t like this. The tone of Kid’s voice, the words he says, both send a chill up his spine and make the hairs on his neck stand up.   
“If you go against your word and try to involve me in any fight with Kaido, I will kill every single member of your crew. Even that obnoxious bear. Are we clear?”  
“I—” 

A low dripping sound cuts through the monstrous silence then, clear enough to distract them both. One droplet followed by another two or three seconds later. Confused, Kid’s gaze wanders to the ceiling, while Law’s falls to the floor – to find two, no, three little dark spots on the metal, right below Kid’s left shoulder. He reaches out and, without warning, pulls the heavy fur cloak off the Captain’s back to find the bandaged stump of his arm soaked through and screaming red.   
“Oh my. You’re bleeding, Captain.” 

Without much protest, and much to Law’s surprise, Kid lets himself be shoved on the nearest stool. The doctor isn’t sure whether it’s embarrassment or defeat that causes the Captain’s silence, but for all he knows Kid seems like he’s given up. That previously mentioned ego trampled into the dirt entirely.   
Experienced hands quickly unravel what lies underneath the thick layers of bandages, and Law cannot help but be surprised. Slashes run across the stump, up of whatever is left of Kid’s arm, some of them incredibly deep, cutting through muscle and flesh, and most, indeed, are bleeding.   
“You’ve lost that arm – when?”  
“’bout one and a half years ago,” the Captain admits, again thin-lipped.  
“It shouldn’t be bleeding.”  
“It was fine until Kaido got to it.”  
“What happened?”  
“He ripped the metal out.”  
Law stares at him. Wide-eyed and borderline horrified.   
“Ripped it out?”  
“I had the arm fused to my body.”  
“You had that metal stuck _inside_ your arm?”  
“It was handy.” Kid snorts suddenly. “Handy – get it?”  
A smack against the pair of goggles on his head is all he gets in response. Forcefully ripping the metal from his flesh, Kid admits while Law begins to clean out the ugly cuts, hadn’t just opened the old wounds, but caused bigger damage. They had slapped bandages on him and thrown him into a cell then, and most of it, according to the Captain, had healed over sufficiently while he was imprisoned, but must have soaked through and opened up again while he was submerged in water to drown. Stress and strain had been sufficient for the wounds to open up again.   
“This is gonna sting,” Law warns before diligently dapping the antiseptic on the rather shallow cuts, but Kid doesn’t flinch. _Tough son of a bitch_ , Law thinks.   
“Who did this anyway? Back when, I mean.” The doctor curiously looks up at the Captain’s disgruntled face while unpacking a needle to sew the bigger cuts shut. “Was it Red-Hair himself?”  
Kid remains silent, jaws clenched. And Law knows.  
“It wasn’t, was it? You got beat into the ground and it wasn’t even Shanks himself who did it.”  
He knows Kid is seconds away from pummeling him to death.   
“Who did it, eh? Not Shanks, someone in his crew. Tell me.”  
Kid bites his tongue hard enough for it to start bleeding. There is no way in hell that he will tell; bad enough that Law has figured out it wasn’t Shanks to begin with. But just remembering the day brings back the faint scent of cigarillo smoke and a loud _BANG_ echoing in his head.


	5. Chapter 5

It stings.  
Every little cut and gash in the stump of his arm tingles with an incomprehensible, subtle feeling that triggers Kid into wanting to scratch the skin raw until no nerves are left. It isn’t pain, per se, but rather an annoying kind of itch that he cannot explain but desperately wants to go away. Every now and then a twitch runs down from his shoulder and gives the order to curl and uncurl fingers that are no longer there; and his mind tricks him into believing that the strong muscles of his left bicep and lower arm flex with the motion they can no longer carry out, simply because they don’t exist anymore. Phantom limbs, they call that. It’s disgusting. And embarrassing.   
An empty bottle of sickeningly sweet port wine sits beside him in the semi-dark already, another is safely clutched in the sound, right hand. The way he has hunkered down in a quiet corner of the Polar Tang’s kitchen, massive coat and all, almost makes him look like a very disgruntled, hibernating rodent ready to pounce on whomever dares interrupt his sleep. The bottle finds its way back to his lips and already his eyes roam the room to look for the third one he can get his hands on.

It’s no secret that the Captain occasionally enjoys a drink or ten. But this? Even his inebriated brain knows this is kind of excessive. And kind of necessary. Somewhere in the bottomless pit that is this godforsaken ship, his first mate and best friend is hauled up in a sick room, laughing while tears stream down his face – drowning in nothing but absolute disgust and agony. His crew is fuck knows where, as is his ship – if it still exists at all, that is – and across the shallow water Kaido sits on his fat ass, feasting, drinking, and laughing, looking over the ruins he’s left behind. One of them being Kid’s life. _Fucking bastard._

He vaguely remembers what Law had said the day before. About people killing themselves after having eaten a faulty SMILE fruit, because they couldn’t live with the constant laughter anymore. He gets it. A wildly emotional man like him probably can’t even imagine what it’s like to smile all the time, even when he’s bursting with rage on the inside. The thought in and on itself is nightmare-inducing and Kid doesn’t even mind the sound of his own laughter. Killer on the other hand?   
_If it’s still Killer at all._  
He feels him slipping away. Some part is still left; a passive, quiet part that recognizes Kid as his best friend and captain. That remembers the crew he is part of and feeds him a certain sense of belonging and loyalty. But then there’s Kamazo – the lunatic that’s taken over Killer’s head like a parasite and, while being perfectly pleasant around the Captain, doesn’t seem to want to be with him. 

_Crush him. I’m gonna crush Kaido. Smash him to pieces – crush --_

The creaking sound of the door distracts him and Kid looks up to find Law leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed before his chest. The yukata looks kind of ridiculous on him, Kid only realizes now. Not like Law at all, that shithead punk kid with his stupid as hell dalmatian spots plastered all over his pants and that hat – Kid drunkenly misses the point that he has no room to judge given his own dotted attire most days.   
Then again --   
For some weird-ass reason that thing strangely fits him, too. For once he looks like the threat he actually is. Drunk or not, Kid knows a powerful man when he sees one. And Law, he’s figured out long ago, is one of the most dangerous ones.   
“What do you want?” The question is almost slurred already, his tongue heavy in his mouth. Law arches his brows.  
“Are you meaning to drink my ship dry, Eustass-ya?”  
“Maybe.”  
“You’re a big guy. You might run out of alcohol before you pass out.”  
“Get the disinfectant then.”  
“Anyone ever told you you’re mildly disgusting?”  
“Only mildly?”

Kid grins and Law cannot help but reciprocate it. The echo of Law’s steps, for a moment, is almost painful in Kid’s ears, and he’s glad when the doctor settles next to him, there on the kitchen floor, wedged between the open fridge with more gleaming bottles of wine close at hand, and the wall.   
“’s not supposed to go in the fridge, you know?” Kid taps the bottle in his hand, his nail eliciting a low tinker on the glass.   
“I know,” Law admits before reaching for the bottle and, to his surprise, is handed it quite willingly. “Downsides of a submarine, it gets hellish hot in here. I’d rather have it a little colder than piss warm.”  
The Captain seems to ponder the options for a moment but eventually hums approvingly. A minute of silence gives Law the opportunity to vaguely calculate how much he’d have to drink to get to Kid’s level now. Considering his enormous weight, the muscle density, and the fact that the man still stands and speaks soundly with one and a half bottles of strong port already in his system, Law figures it’d have to be quite a lot. Follow-up question: will Kid let him?  
“Killer.” The word distracts him, and Law blinks at the Captain. “Where is he?”  
“Sedated,” Law says, and immediately feels Kid’s horrifying gaze burn a hole in his head. “It’s a kindness. He needs to sleep, there is no other way he’ll heal.”  
“Heal?”  
“He’s been cut up badly, the wounds have been uncared for. He needs sleep. You and I both know he won’t get it without some kind of tranquilizer.”  
 _Fufufufu._ Yeah. That shit. It keeps Kid up at night; can’t even imagine what it must be like for Killer.  
“You want a shot, too?” Law curiously glimpses at the redhead by his side, subtle amusement pulling at the corners of his lips.   
“Got my own tranquilizer,” Kid says, reaching for the bottle in Law’s hands again to take a generous swig. It borderlines on a miracle that he can still clearly pronounce the word _tranquilizer_. 

Law shifts then, turns his body towards the Captain. Take advantage of the fact that Kid clings to the bottle and only has one spare arm left to do so. Cool fingers carefully push the thick fur coat off the broad shoulders and in the dim light coming from the corridor outside, Law inspects the newly bandaged stump of an arm. It’s dry and shimmering plain white.   
“Good. You’re not bleeding through anymore.”  
“Should’ve been a seamstress.”   
“Eh?”  
“You. With your fine needlework an’ all.”  
Law squints at the smirking Captain and nonchalantly steals the bottle again.  
“You better be glad I became a surgeon instead.”  
He shifts a little more until he’s crouched opposite Kid, squatting with the bottle casually dangling between his knees, and he reaches out to touch Kid’s left cheek. The scarring is nasty. Jagged and deep, rough at the edges and screamingly aggressive. None of these cuts had been treated properly; and it, too, is a miracle that none of them got infected.   
“Looks like that hurt a lot when it happened.”  
“I’ve had worse.”  
 _Liar._   
The body under his fingertips is comfortably warm, but not feverish, and the contrast between the rough scars and the otherwise remarkably soft skin is somewhat intriguing. 

“I’ll give you two days, got it?”  
“Huh?”  
Law raises the hand holding the bottle, index and middle finger forming a _two_ while the rest of his hand remains curled around the port wine.  
“Two days. To get better and heal that arm. After that we’ll have to start plotting. Understood?”  
“Tsk, two days,” the Kid pirate dismisses the words with a wave of the one remaining hand. “Don’t need two days.”  
“No?”  
“No, we can start plotting right now.”  
Law grins. He curiously watches Kid’s face for a moment; a strange feeling settling in his gut. Seeing him like this, calm and collected, is like seeing a feral, massive cat up close with no cages to separate them. It’s fascinating. That broken nose, those crimson eyes, that confidence that still oozes from the Captain no matter how battered or drunk he is right now, and as it is with any large predator, Law suddenly finds a certain beauty in that beast sitting before him. A weirdly disfigured and not at all conventional kind, but it smacks him right in the face in that very moment.   
“Alright then. Start plotting. First thing we’re gonna do?”  
Kid watches him with equal curiosity. Stupid yukata. It does nothing to make Law look less ridiculous but it’s there and it’s inexplicably intriguing. Perhaps because it reveals more than is usually seen – black ink carefully pounded under the tanned skin, the patterns reaching underneath the fabric and low, low – however low, Kid doesn’t know but wants to find out.   
_You’re drunk_ , his brain kindly reminds him. _You’re drunk and upset. You’re lonely, you feel abandoned, you’re bullshitting yourself. Most of all, you’re drunk._

Yes. Yes, he is. 

And without saying a word, he buries his fingers in the thick fabric of that ridiculous yukata and pulls Law close to press his lips to the Doctor’s in a heated, but strangely sensual kiss.


End file.
